Elsewhere in this issue, I've annotated a story by Edgar Allan Poe called 'Never Bet the Devil Your Head'. Now, that's good advice. Poe wrote the story to make mock of the common belief in his day that stories need a 'moral', meaning an overt, edifying message. Come to think of it, people believe that today, too. How many television shows and movies are criticised because 'we don't like the underlying message'? How many stories are accused of 'sending the wrong signal'? Uh-huh. It's those 'moral' people again.

Now, obviously, you don't want to be 'sending the wrong signal' about important stuff. You don't want to imply that murder is a good thing, for example. Or to encourage people to abuse each other, or disrespect each other, or behave in a prejudicial fashion. Of course you don't. But the need to 'send' an overt 'signal' that is acceptable to the modern enlightened audience can be dreadfully confining. So I have a suggestion.

Be sneaky about it.

Here's what I mean. Go ahead and give 'em the overt moral they're looking for. Make sure your story says that crime doesn't pay, it's nice to be nice, and like that. But under the surface, see if you can't slip in a deeper message. Tickle their unconscious grey cells a little. What's that? Sure, I can give you an example.

Have you been watching Amazon's The Man in the High Castle? You really should, even if you a) hate reading about World War II, b) don't usually enjoy science fiction, and c) wouldn't read a Philip K Dick novel if someone paid you. Because that series is so well-made that you, as a writer, can learn something from it. And it's not painful to watch. Those actors are knocking themselves out to do a good job, and they do.

I've been re-watching the series, and gaining new appreciation for the cleverness of the film team. I'm up to Episode 3 of the second season. This morning, I woke up with an insight. (My subconscious must have been working all night. I don't mind as long as it lets me sleep.) In my mind, I recalled the opening of the series. Then I compared it to where the series was going, and something clicked.

The story has an ensemble cast, but the main character is arguably Juliana Crain. Juliana lives in San Francisco, in an alternate universe where the Axis won the Second World War, making Juliana a subject of the Japanese Emperor. She doesn't like it, but then, nobody does. Most of them feel that there's not much they can do about it. And no, that's not what the story is about, not really. Let's talk about Juliana's opening scene.

Juliana's first scene takes place in a dojo. She's wearing Japanese clothing and bowing formally to a Japanese man in the same costume. They wrestle, and Juliana effortlessly throws the much larger man. The instructor explains that this is the beauty of aikido, which is not an aggressive sport. The story moves on.

As we learn more about the difficult world these people live in, we find out that Juliana belongs to what Graham Greene might have called 'the torturable class'. She should be a victim. She's not. In the two seasons so far, Juliana manages to deal with the Japanese secret police, the rather vicious Resistance, the SS, and even the mysterious title figure. In a sense, she even conquers reality itself. How does she do it? I would argue that Juliana applies her aikido training to more than throwing large male humans around. Others may see her as a victim: the universe seems to regard Juliana as a secret weapon.

Surprise, surprise: yes, Juliana 'sends the right signal'. As an 'empowered' female lead, she ticks all the boxes and passes that all-important Bechdel Test – in itself no mean feat, since the story is set in an alternate version of the 1960s, not a shining period for feminism. A version of the Sixties in which the Nazis won is a particularly uphill battle. Juliana's actions also 'send the right signal' in terms of ethical behaviour and respect for others. But I would argue that it's the underlying message that makes this series an accomplishment. Under the surface action, there's some revolutionary thought brewing. Can a human throw Destiny around? Is a judo move like this possible? What does it take? I would like to suggest that this story is worth watching, because you just might find some tantalising hints to possible answers.

Can we do that in our writing? Heck, yeah. Do like the contract writers of old, who were handed the topics and the guidelines and the House Rules – but who made poetry out of the product, anyway, probably for about a nickel a word. Do not say, 'Oh, I'm waiting to share my wisdom until I have time to write my magnum opus.' Do not say that. Instead, slip your bits and bobs of ideas into everything you write, from a post on h2g2 to the note for your kid's teacher to the shopping list on your fridge. Be generous with your wisdom, and it will increase. It doesn't fit the subject/assigned topic/Create theme? Slip it in under the radar. You'll be amazed how little the 'moral'-seekers will notice. They think it's all about them, anyway. Drop your hints like breadcrumbs, and those in the know will find them.

Last week, we watched Teen Wolf (again) at my house, mostly just because we like Michael J Fox. It's a piece of fluff, but it's a good, fun piece of fluff that avoids dreary and obvious cliché in favour of something a human being might actually want to think about. Looking up some obscure factoid about the production, I came across the information that the producers hired the director because of his answer to the question, 'What is this film about?' According to the producers, every other prospective director had answered, 'A werewolf.' The director who got the job, however, said, 'It's about a father and son.' And so it was. There's more than one way to look at anything. If we dig just a little deeper, we may strike gold.

Or find a way to defeat the Axis.

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Dmitri Gheorgheni

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